


kinktober: 2018

by toxica939



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-23 05:06:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16152212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxica939/pseuds/toxica939
Summary: A selection of fills for this year's kinktober





	1. day 1: facesitting

There's no good reason for Aaron to still be in bed, but it's the weekend. Liv's in Ireland, Seb's with Diane until the afternoon, so there's also no reason to move.

He's lounging back in the pillows, scrolling through his phone, letting the brew Robert made him before he jumped in the shower go cold, because he didn't really want it in the first place.

He hears the shower turn off, hears that godawful humming Robert always does while he towels off his hair and dries his arse start up.

“Do you fancy town for lunch?” Robert calls through the open doorway.

“Not really,” he shouts back. There isn't a bone in Aaron's body that wants to get dressed before midday.

Robert appears in the doorway. “Well you can't just-”

Aaron doesn't hear the rest. Because he was wrong, Robert's barely towelled anything off at all. He's damp all over, hair scrubbed up off his forehead, nipples and goosebumps pebbled in the morning chill. And it's Robert, isn't it? So he's standing there with his towel in his hands, cock on show, making Aaron go hot all over.

Aaron watches water drip from the ends of Robert's hair, slide down his neck to catch in the dip of his collarbone, watches another droplet ripple over the soft planes of his stomach into the water dark hair above his dick. Jesus, he's not even hard and Aaron's still aching to put his mouth there; where he's clean and shower fresh, tingling with Aaron's cheapo mint shower gel if the smell in the air is anything to go by.

It takes the sudden fold of Robert's arms, biceps bulging, to drag his gaze back up to Robert's smirking face.

“Having a good look there?” Robert asks. And he's flexing a little now, the dickhead.

Aaron makes sure his mouth is closed before he shrugs. “You're alright, aren't you?”

His mouth's watering, but Robert doesn't need to know that. He spreads his legs a little under the covers to make room for the sudden pulse in his dick.

Robert's smirk grows, and he turns to throw the towel at the laundry basket, gives Aaron a heart-stopping view of the twist in his torso and the curve of his arse.

He pauses by Aaron's side of the bed, one knee up on the mattress. “So was this the plan all along then? Just lounge about looking fit in bed until I couldn't resist any more?”

Aaron reaches out, cups the hot weight of Robert's balls to watch him choke, mouth dropping open. “Are you?” Aaron asks, hand dragging slow and tight up the thickening length of him until his thumb is pressed to the tip. “Resisting?”

He taps, jacks Robert's dick once, twice, enough to crumple him, bent at the waist, hand planted in the centre of Aaron's chest to keep him standing. Aaron's aware that he's probably the one looking like a smug git right now, but it's heady, being able to unravel Robert, always has been.

Robert doesn't say anything, barely manages a shake of his head when Aaron rolls up on to his elbow and licks up the underside of him. Robert's fingers scramble over Aaron's shoulder, holding on tight, and Aaron rubs the flat of his tongue across the head, because he knows it'll make Robert's eyes squeeze shut, make him swear in hiss words, hand sliding up to the back of Aaron head to encourage him up and over, until his mouth is sinking down over Robert's dick.

He sucks Robert down in slow pulses, presses his fingers to the fleshy backs of Robert's thighs and moves with the hitch of Robert's hips when he can't hold himself back any more.

Robert's moaning above him, the achy wordless ones he always does when it starts getting good. He's leaking across Aaron's tongue, and it is good. It is. But it's not what Aaron wants.

He pulls back to watch Robert blink at him. “What's wrong?”

Aaron shakes his head, thrilling at Robert's breathlessness, at the heave of his chest. “Nothing, come here,” he shoves the pillows away, lying down again to coax Robert on top.

He doesn't take much persuasion, not with his dick bobbing in the breeze, still wet from Aaron's mouth. He settles over Aaron's chest, knees in his armpits, holds the headboard with one hand and his dick with the other, angling it down and back into Aaron's waiting mouth.

This is better. Tethered by the weight of Robert over him, used by Robert's rolling hips. It's enough to have Aaron curling a hand around himself.

Robert's swearing again, saying shit and fuck, hand combing into Aaron's hair, thumb pressing to the hollow of Aaron's cheek. He's looking down at Aaron like he can't believe his eyes, red in his face and down his chest, mouth dropped open.

Aaron cranes his neck and pulls free, mouthing down over Robert's balls. He sucks one into his mouth, Robert shouting above him, fist thumping against the wall.

“It's so good,” Robert's saying, “You're so good.”

Aaron worms his arms down under Robert's legs, has to push and pull with him to get him with the program. “Just get up here,” he says, in the end, hefting Robert to rise up on his knees, spread them further into the bed. It's cramped, and he can't exactly breathe, but it gets him Robert, settling over Aaron's mouth. Aaron gets his thumbs in there to spread him open, and licks back over Robert's rim. It clenches up tight at the first stroke of his tongue, and Robert's sob is muffled by his thighs at Aaron's ears.

He relaxes in increments, moaning in shocky sounding bursts while Aaron rubs his tongue against him.

Aaron's the only person Robert's ever let do this to him. He hadn't known that at first, the first time he'd gotten his mouth on Robert's arse, melted him across the bed he'd shared with his wife. But that was years ago, Aaron knows exactly what he's doing to him now. He knows that if he laps at him softly, Robert will shiver, moan like a wave. He knows that if he presses into him, short, sharp stabs with the tip of his tongue, Robert will scramble.

He's scrambling now, knees flexing, weight lifting, so Aaron has to lock his arms around Robert's thighs to hold him down. It smashes his face into the crease of him, stubble rubbing where it's already hot and wet with Aaron's spit.

“Oh god. Aaron. Oh god,” Robert's chanting. His weight shifts when he straightens to full height, even heavier on top of Aaron. Aaron wishes he could see him, see his head dropped back, gasping at the ceiling; see the white knuckled grip he'll have on the top of the headboard; see the tense and flex of his belly, the hard, dripping jut of his cock.

He knows when Robert wraps a hand around himself, can hear the wet slap of it, and the way Robert's breathing stutters.

He holds Robert still, licks at him until his thighs shake, and he moans long and loud, body caving in on itself in heaving pulses.

He lets up when it's over, and Robert sort of slides off him, collapses on his side with a leg still thrown across Aaron.

Aaron takes a second to gasp for air, rub a hand over the filthy mess of his beard. “You alright?”

Robert rolls on to his back with a groan. “I don't know,” he sounds so stunned that they both laugh.

Aaron's hand makes a couple of quick passes over his own erection. It hasn't flagged any and the sight of Robert, fucked out and practically speechless is doing it for him.

He feels Robert cosy up against his side when he can't help but keep pulling at himself. He can still hear Robert moaning above him, like it's echoing in the room. He can't help himself.

Robert's hand slides over his stomach, up to pluck at his nipple, and his mouth fastens to Aaron's neck.

By the time Robert's hand wraps over his own, Aaron's got his head screwed back into the bed, lip in his teeth, and all it takes is the shuffle of Robert's body against him, Robert's fingers sliding between his and grazing at him, to tip him over the edge.

Robert pops up on an elbow, dipping a finger into the come puddling in Aaron's belly button. “That was unexpected.”

Aaron tries to play down the fact that he's still catching his breath. “Was it?”

“Mmmm. You're good at that,” Robert's using that voice, the gentle, private one that's all for Aaron, and his smile is soft.

Aaron pushes his fingers into front of Robert’s hair, still wet, stiff with sweat. They stare at each other for a moment, Aaron's fingers tracing the curve of Robert's jaw while the air thickens between them.

“You're not going to kiss me, are you?”

Robert barks a laugh. “Not a chance.”

Aaron leans up to scrub his damp face into the juncture of Robert's neck instead, follows him over when Robert squawks and tries to roll away. He comes up on top, plants a firm kiss to Robert's cheek before he climbs off the bed, leaving Robert starfished in the middle of it.

“Come on then,” he says, heading for the en suit. “You can't stay there all day.”

 


	2. day 2: begging

He's losing his mind.

Robert's got him spread across the bed, knees in the air, two fingers of his right hand buried to the third knuckle in Aaron's arse, and he wont fucking _do_ anything.

Aaron wriggles, rubbing the soles of his feet against the bedsheets. It rocks Robert's fingers a little deeper for a second before his hand clamps down on Aaron's hip to still him.

“Stop it,” Robert says, and his fingers flex, scissoring just enough to have Aaron eyes rolling back in his head.

“Fucking do something then,” Aaron snaps. He feels like is spine is slowly liquifying, hot in the face and aching.

Every minute Robert keeps him here, pinned open on that gently rocking hand, body straining for the brush of fingertips over his prostate; it's killing him.

He's losing his fucking mind.

Robert's exhale is amused, and he shakes his head fondly. “Whatever happened to the art of patience, Aaron?”

Aaron blows air up at his sweaty face and flops an arm across his eyes. “Maybe it got bored of you faffing about and went and sorted itself out,” he says.

Robert's fingers slip deeper, rubbing in all the right places, and Aaron has to sink his teeth into his forearm to muffle a shout.

“You're more than welcome to,” Robert tells him, dipping down to mouth over the head of his dick. His aching, throbbing, woefully ignored dick. God he wants to fuck. He wants to put Robert on his belly and pound him through the bed for being such a smug, irritating dickhead.

Robert lifts his head. “What was that?”

But the thrust of his fingers picks up again before Aaron can speak. Suddenly, they're slipping in and out of him, sparking fire. Fuck yes. This is it, this is what he needs.

It arches Aaron's back, hands freeing from their fists in the sheets, coming up to push at the headboard.

He's so close he can taste it when Robert eases back to just his fingertips. Somehow making Aaron feel open and empty at the same time. The edge, where it had been rushing up to meet him, falls away, and Aaron collapses back into the sheets.

“I hate you,” his voice sounds wrecked.

Robert laps at the head of his dick, and he hisses, belly caving.

Robert nuzzles at him, fingers easing back inside. “I know you do.”

He rises up over Aaron, comes to settle on top of him with his arm still wedged between them, fingers still pushing at Aaron intermittently, enough to have him gasping but not enough to get him anywhere.

Robert gives him a kiss, full on the mouth, and wet with the taste of himself. It's a good distraction from the buzzing of his body and the inside of his own head, so Aaron cups Robert's face in his hands to hold him there, keep the kisses coming.

“What do you need?” Robert asks him, mouth dragging against Aaron's.

Aaron lets himself drift. “You.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods, thighs already sliding against the soft skin of Robert's ribcage.

“You want me to put it in?”

God yes. “Yeah.”

Robert nips at his chin. “Ask nicely.”

“Fuck off,” Aaron knocks him with a knee.

Robert rears back on his knees, gets his fingers moving again, fast enough that Aaron's eyes squeeze shut. “Ask. Nicely,” Robert says again.

“No,” Aaron shakes his head. The bed feels like it's spinning.

There's a pause, Robert's light, “Alright then,” and then his dick is down Robert's throat, hot heat closing round him, Robert's fingers pushing and pressing in perfect counterpoint.

Aaron slaps at the headboard, heat running up through him. He's going to come, he realises, with startling clarity, he's going to come right the fuck now.

He gets a hand down, when he feels Robert start to ease up, clamps his fingers around Robert's wrist to hold him still. “Don't” he says, body aching. “Please don't.”

Robert rewards him with a twist of his wrist, fingers fucking in and out. Finally, _finally_.

“You want it,” Robert tells him, and Aaron feels the sticky press of an erection against the back of his thigh.

Aaron knows he's nodding, hands up Robert's arms, trying to get hold of his shoulders to pull him in again. But Robert's resisting. Waiting.

His fingers disappear, return wet with fresh lube and Aaron opens up for them so easily, need building in him until he can't contain it any more.

“Please,” he says, barely more than a breath. “Please, come on. Please, please, please,” he's begging now, whimpering to the rhythm of Robert's fingers inside of him, can't seem to stop the flow of words any more.

But Robert's still making him wait.

Until he isn't, until he's hooking one of Aaron's knees in the crook of his elbow to open him up and the blunt head of Robert's dick is pressing at him. They moan together when Robert finally pushes inside, Aaron's whole body preening. He drags Robert down to him, arms folded around his shoulders. Robert gives him his mouth, kisses him through panting, heaving breaths.

Aaron holds his other knee up himself, puts his free hand back on the headboard to stop himself sliding under the force of Robert's snapping hips. It's too much like this; folded double, foreheads touching, and Aaron's been on the edge for so long that it almost takes him by surprise. Nothing but the rub of Robert inside him and his belly against his dick. He moans in loud burst every time Robert thrusts, can't clench his teeth hard enough against how good it feels.

He makes a mess between them, sinks his fingers into Robert's shoulders and rocks his hips to coax him through his own orgasm, Robert's shout of pleasure echoing between them.

Robert flattens to him, after, and Aaron eases his legs down, wincing at the pull in his hips.

He slaps Robert on the arse. “I hate it when you do that,” he says.

Robert rumbles good naturedly into Aaron's neck. “No you don't.”

Aaron regards the ceiling, holds Robert close.

No. He doesn't.

 


	3. day 4: mirror sex

He's been here for three days now. Long enough that the bed smells like him, like them; long enough that he knows where everything is, feels as at ease as he ever does pouring himself a drink while Robert does the washing up from the night before. He lets himself brush up against Robert's back on his way by, a hand on his hip to ease past him.

It feels almost mundane, domestic, the way they're shuffling around each other. But the hum in the air has yet to fade to grey. Aaron knows all it will take is the heat of Robert's eyes on him, bottom lip up between his teeth and eyelashes lowering, to have Aaron's heart back in his throat, have them clashing together, right here in the kitchen where Robert usually eats breakfast with his family.

He had Robert over that counter just there yesterday.

Robert looks at him, up to his elbows in dish water. Like he knows.. “You alright?”

Aaron mmms, takes a swig of orange juice, bitter mixed his morning toothpaste.

It's a dance he's getting used to. Robert dries his hands, comes closer to wind them into the hem of Aaron t shirt, twist it up and off right there in the kitchen.

Aaron feels his eyebrows rise, body tensing at being so on show while Robert's still wrapped in his dressing gown, only naked at his bare feet, and wrists, and the open v of his collar.

“Aaron, Aaron, Aaron,” he says on a sigh, fingers linking at the small of Aaron's back. “What am I going to do with you?”

He ducks to press a kiss to Aaron's chest, and another, Aaron's hands wavering in the air where they want to sink into Robert's hair, hold that hot mouth to him.

He settles for smoothing a hand over the back of Robert's head, lets his mouth move faster than his brain. “Whatever you want.”

Robert looks up, delighted. “Anything?”

Aaron rolls his eyes. He's never wanted to kiss someone and smack them at the same time before, thinks maybe it's the whiplash of it that has him so caught up sometimes. Robert is a maze of contradictions; _I love you_ warring with _I need you_ _warring with why don't you want me enough?_

But it all fades to nothing when Robert kisses him, the same hurricane it's always been, enough to stir the air and steal Aaron's breath. He needs to learn to brace himself against it.

Not today.

It doesn't take much to draw Robert upstairs, peel him out of his dressing gown. Robert goes pliant for it for a while, lets Aaron kiss his way down the alabaster length of his body and back up against, tongue to the rough of hair on his thighs.

He sprawls for Aaron's mouth, one hand behind his head and the other in Aaron's hair. Like a king. Like everything Aaron shouldn't be impressed by, but is, in spite of himself.

Robert's fist clenches when his hips start to rolls, urges Aaron off and back up his body again. Aaron fits their mouths together, Robert sucking the taste of himself from Aaron's tongue.

“Let me fuck you,” Robert says, pink over the apples of his cheeks and down his chest. “Please?”

Aaron makes him wait, takes another kiss just because he can, just because that's a novelty that might never get old.

But he shuffles over in the end, presses his forehead to the fold of his arms and spreads his legs.

Robert gets him ready quickly, presses into him with one steady roll of his hips, both of them moaning. Aaron used to hate this part, wanted to get to the good bit, but there's something about the way it always makes Robert lose his head that echoes pleasure through him. Their stuttering, stumbling, hash of a relationship, it works like this, it's seamless. Aaron revels in not having to think about whether he's pushing for too much or holding back too little.

In not having to think at all.

He's weightless, suddenly, as Robert lifts him up and back, settles him over his spread knees. It forces Robert even deeper inside him and Aaron's moan feels like it's being pushed from his chest. His head lolls back on Robert's shoulder, sweat in his eyes. Nothing has ever felt like this, like the slow dismantling of everything he knows about himself. He wishes the display of strength didn't do it for him.

Robert hands slips up his chest to curl around his throat, cupping gently, not squeezing. “Look,” he says, turning Aaron's head.

There's a mirror over the vanity across from the bed, a couple of pricey looking necklaces hanging from the corner of it. And there, right in the middle: Aaron; open mouthed and flushed pink, framed by Robert's arms, Robert's hands on him, Robert's nose dragging up the side of his face to kiss at his cheek.

Robert's hip jack and Aaron watches himself gasp, watches himself wavering in Robert's hold, watches them move together.

Robert's tongue flickers up behind his ear. “Look at you,” he says, that drugging whisper of his, eyes meeting Aaron's in the mirror for a second before they dance away. “Look how gorgeous you are.”

Aaron wants to shy away from the compliment, but he can't like this, spread open across Robert's lap, no where to go. “Shut up,” he says, lets his eyes fall closed as though that will hide him.

Robert nuzzles at him. “I mean it,” he says. “You look so good. _We_ look so good. Someone should be filming this.”

“Don't even think about it,” Aaron says, hissing when Robert starts fucking up into him properly again. His hands find the arm Robert's got belted around his middle, make claws to hold on. As if some of the stuff already on his phone isn't incriminating enough.

It gets him a chuckle, and Robert's grinning at him when Aaron's eyes flutter back open. Aaron holds his breath when Robert's hand moves down to curl around him, thumb slipping through the slick over the head before starting a loose jerk.

And Aaron can't help it, he watches his own face while he rocks between Robert's dick and his hand, watches Robert take him to pieces; the pleasure pain wrinkle of his forehead, the dazed o of his mouth, sweat dark temples and the heave of his own chest. There are other things too though, things he can't see, like the tremble in Robert's thighs, the heat of Robert's mouth opening over the back of Aaron's neck, that little whine he makes when he's getting close. A hundred things that Robert probably doesn't even know about himself. All Aaron's.

It's enough just to feel it, when Robert starts stripping his dick in earnest, timed to his thrusts, so he lets his head fall back again, closes his eyes against the corniced white of the ceiling, lets Robert float him away.

 


End file.
